Things That Matter
by Smauglock The Great
Summary: Sherlock finds a dead frog, and Molly comes to join the autopsy. Kid!lock. Oneshot. Sherlolly if you squint.


Of all the things he could have been doing in the schoolyard after school, Sherlock Holmes had to be poking the dead frog with a stick. The first few times he thought it might have been still alive and was trying to prod it awake, but now he seemed to be poking it for no good reason. The other children avoided him, casting confused and sometimes hateful glances at him.

Then someone crouched down next to him. He was too busy with the frog to look, but he guessed it was a boy– after all, what girl would come near a dead thing? Sherlock prodded the frog's side and flipped it over so it was on its back. "What're you doing?" The person next to him asked in a voice far to high to be a boy's.

Sherlock turned to face the stranger. Long brown hair pulled up in a ponytail, pink dress with flowers on it, a purple schoolbag sitting next to her with the name 'Molly' sewn into it– _definitely_ a girl. The eleven-year-old Holmes had no interest in girl; he usually put all of them, aside from his Mummy, with astronomy in the 'Utterly Useless' section of his Mind Fort (A/N: An early version of his Mind Palace). He turned back to the frog and began poking at it again. "Why do you care?" He said in an abrasive tone.

"Just wondering." Molly said quietly. After a few moments, she spoke up again, "I wonder how it died…"

"Hm?" Sherlock turned back to her.

"The frog. I wonder how it died." Molly repeated.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." He said, now whacking the frog's corpse with the stick.

"You're just poking it."

"And trying to work on my deduction skills by looking at the reaction to–"

"That's stupid." Molly said suddenly. Sherlock looked round at her again. "If you were _really_ trying to figure out how it died, you'd do this." She took the stick from him and poked the frog in the stomach so hard it went through the skin.

"You've ruined it!" He whined. "Now I have to find another one to experiment on!"

Molly shook her head and tugged on the stick, causing the frog's skin to split. She pointed to a particularly nasty part of the frog's innards, strangely undeterred, and said, "There. It's not supposed to be that color. I'd bet that's the problem."

Sherlock stared at her in wonder. "How'd you know that?"

"I have a book on animal anatomy at home." She blushed a light shade of pink. "I want to be a pathologist when I grow up, but Mum won't let me have a human anatomy book until I'm older. So, in the meantime, I practice on animals."

"What kind of animals?"

"Usually squirrels, mice, birds, and frogs. My cat likes to hunt them sometimes, and Mum and Dad say it's fine so long as I wear an apron, a pair of gloves, and a mask."

Sherlock looked at her, then back to the frog. "You're the only girl I know who's not grossed out by this."

"Well… I kinda am." Molly admitted. "Only a little, though."

He nodded absent-mindedly and said, "Sherlock Holmes."

She seemed a bit confused by this, but eventually managed to say, "M-Molly Hooper… Is that your brother?"

Sherlock turned around and groaned. Mycroft was waiting for him, arms crossed, outside of their parent's car. "Yea, that's him."

"Well, I-I think you should go then." Molly stood up and swung her bag over her shoulder. "Mum's here, too…"

Sherlock nodded and stood up, grabbing his bag. "'Bye, then, Molly." He smiled a bit and waved.

Molly blushed a furious shade of pink. "'Bye, Sherlock…" She returned the wave and sped off to her ride, eyes towards the ground, though they kept flicking back at Sherlock.

He furrowed his brow. Despite his young age, he knew a great many things, but girls was definitely not one of them. He decided he'd try and do some research; after all, he'd finished his homework just before he found the frog. So he'd go home, play with Redbeard for a bit, eat dinner, (maybe) play deductions, and then research girls' behavior. By the time he'd finished with his mental schedule, he'd reached his car. He climbed into the back seat without paying Mycroft any mind, only saying a few words to his Daddy about his day when he stepped in. Then he entered his Mind Fort.

To him, it was a giant tree-house on an even bigger tree, with rooms full of everything he could think of. He climbed the rope ladder and sped past the rooms marked 'Violin Lessons' and 'Memories With Redbeard' to a shabby-looking door at the end of the hallway marked 'Utterly Useless'.

He opened the door and stepped in. There were only two stacks of paper sitting on a lone desk. On the right, there was everything about astronomy (he'd figure out how to delete everything later), and on the left were the 'profiles' of every girl he met in and outside of school. On the very top was Molly Hooper.

Sherlock picked up the page and exited the room, going to one at the very front of the Mind Fort labelled 'Things That Matter'. He entered and looked for a place to pin up the profile of Molly. There was a picture of Redbeard with the words, "Likes to be scratched just behind the ear." and a picture of his Mycroft with the words "Don't trust him!" underlined several times. He decided pin up Molly's profile just next to the door and picked up a marker that had just appeared, writing, "Exception to useless rule. Examine behavior. Conclude whether or not all girls act the same." After an afterthought, he added, "Dissect dead bird I found in the yard this morning with her."

He stood back and admired his work before leaving his Mind Fort. He climbed out of the car and sped straight into his room and Redbeard, who happily licked his face. "Redbeard, old boy," Sherlock said to his happy puppy, "I've just met the best girl in the whole world besides Mummy. She likes to dissect things and isn't too squeamish about it. I like her." Redbeard barked his agreement.


End file.
